


Sultan of Sorcery

by EmpireMurderer



Category: Aladdin (1992)
Genre: F/M, Forced Marriage, Jasmine is Pregnant All the Damned Time, Sorcerers, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-02 16:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14548470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpireMurderer/pseuds/EmpireMurderer
Summary: Assuming Aladdin, Abu and the genie never happened, Jasmine is forced by the Sultan to marry the Grand Vizier Jafar because she had renounced every prince in the land.  To spare her life and her fathers, Jasmine makes a deal with Jafar.  Everyone knows what the kingdom is like under the Sultan's rule but what would it be like under Jafars?  Jasmine is surprised to learn he makes an excellent leader.  She wonders what else he is good at.Completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> While not exactly forced rape, I would infer to the first few times between Jafar and Jasmine as coerced rape. It is not graphic but please do not read if it is a trigger.

Rage was an understatement when the Sultan informed the princess with a far away glaze to his eyes that after intense scouring for a prince, she would be wedded to the much older Grand Vizier to assuage the law of the land.  She would not cry though.  In her hatred, there was no room for tears.

She met with the Grand Vizier the night before their wedding.

“Do not kill me or my father and I will give to you a son.”  She hissed bitterly.  To say the Grand Vizier was surprised would have not done him justice.

“My dear, princess,”  he said convivially.  “For what reason would you think so poorly of me?”

“Do not play games with me, Jafar.”  She snapped.  “Spare me and I shall produce an heir.”

His smile faded back and he glared at her thoughtfully.

“You shall not die by my hand, I assure you.”  He answered gravely.  Placated enough by his promise, Jasmine left the room, punctuated with the slam of a door.

 

Jafar was a patient man.  He had connived and manipulated his way to the top for decades.  He could wait a little longer.  Though he managed to ‘persuade’ the sultan to marry his daughter to him, he had no hand in the ailing health of the obese, little man.  Poor nutrition and hygiene was accelerating the Sultan’s death for him.

 

The first night Jasmine allowed Jafar to touch her was a few months after the wedding.  Sensing her father did not have long to live, she wanted to deliver news of her impending motherhood before he died.  Jafar was summoned by note to her chambers and he came and she ordered him to take her as she bent herself over the couch fully clothed except for her skirt hiked up to her waist.  He had to pull her underwear down below her thighs to enter her.  It was difficult for Jafar as this was hardly arousing.  In all honesty, he held little attraction for Jasmine, who was but a spoiled brat and a necessary means to keep his hard won power.  He conjured memories of women he had once been intimate with and did his duty.  It took longer than expected since neither of them seemed to be all that invested in the moment.  Jasmine was as silent as a cold night and the only sound from him was the final grunt right before he spilled into her.  Without a word he left her chambers to go soak in a hot bath.  He washed off the evidence of her virginity with a grimace.

The next month Jasmine summoned him again, this time with an anger in her eye.

“Do it right this time.”  She told him, as she bent over the couch.  “Use your sorcery if you have to.”

He merely glared irritatedly at her.  At least she confirmed what he had suspected.  She knew of his sorcerer’s talents.  And she did have a point.  He made a note to inspect his tomes in order to ensure a son should they have to do this again.

 

As luck would have it, two times was the charm.  The princess was able to impart the discovery of her pregnancy to her bed-ridden father.  Jafar had thought the Sultan would grasp to life until the birth of his first grandbaby but the little man had never been a fighter and he was gone less than a week later.  The kingdom mourned his death and braced themselves for the reign of the red-blooded heir.

Jafar was not as evil as some perceived.  Yes, he wanted power and riches but he also wanted Agrabah, the land that allowed him to rise from destitution, to prosper as it was clearly not even close to reaching it’s full potential among the known nations of the world.  He had always known he could do better than the fat, lazy, naive little man and he proved his worth almost immediately.  For years he had made suggestions to the Sultan that were repeatedly shot down due to conflicting ideas.  Hypnotic manipulation had to be used sparingly or the puppet Sultan would be easily exposed by suspicious eyes.  As soon as he was pronounced Sultan, Jafar implemented strategies to reduce the criminal element in the cities by fighting the source.  He paid a large workforce to dig irrigation routes and plant crops.  More people had jobs.  There was now more plentiful food in the land that could be sold at reduced prices.  More people were fed.  They now had an export that could be sold or traded and the land became richer.  More people had money.  There were now less people who relied on criminal actions to ensure survival.  Crime had been reduced so drastically that one of the empty prisons was converted into a school.  This was only the beginning.

 

Jafar rarely saw Jasmine.  They both resided in the palace but she was so keen on avoiding his presence that he never even saw her when she was presumably visibly pregnant.  He was updated only when he asked about the impending birth up until the day the child arrived.

_A daughter._

Jafar felt disappointment only because now he would have to join with Jasmine again to get the heir he knew he needed.

 

He did not learn of the child’s name until he felt an overwhelming urge to see her face.  What kind of features would a child of his have?  Would she be long and skinny like him?  Would she bear his sharp nose?

He purposely visited at a time when Jasmine would not be around to scrutinize his every move.  He did not want to feel her eyes burn into him with loathing.  

The child was one month old to the day.  She was wrapped in a linen cloth, sleeping peacefully when the nursemaid lifted her for him to see and he felt as though a blunt object had punched into his gut and a hand had fisted around his heart.  Jafar had never liked children but she was the most beautiful he had ever seen.  

_Layla._

His own reaction confused him and he stalked away in a light fear.  He was back again the next day because it was dangerous not to understand one’s own qualms, or so he made himself believe.

 

There were functions of the state that forced Jasmine and Jafar to interact in the presence of others.  Generally they spoke not at all to each other, rather pretending to be cordial and then parting as soon as possible after some gala or wedding or feast they were both obligated to attend.  Three months after Layla’s birth, Jasmine deigned to speak directly to him.

“I hear you’ve been visiting my daughter.”  She said tightly.  He wasn’t sure what to make of her tone.  Was she upset?  Or perhaps she was disguising an approval.  She wore a red dress that hid the vestiges of a pregnant belly.  Her breasts seemed much fuller, no doubt due to the nursing of his child.

“Then I cannot presume to roam in my castle without the meddling of spies.”  He simply stated.

“That is the price of power.”  She replied.  “Besides, you’ve proved my point.  Apparently, you’re unable to answer a simple question or there would be no need of spies.”

“Layla is my child.”  He said more angrily than he meant to.  “It is not only my right to see her but my duty that she is well attended.”

Jasmine looked to say something but she snapped her jaw shut and they spoke no more.

 

By the time Layla was one-year-old, Jafar had established their breakfast routine when he would feed her mushed grapes and creamed wheat.  At night he would come after Jasmine had tucked Layla into bed and pretend she needed to be watched over as she slept.  If she woke he would gently pat her back till sleep overcame her again.  It did not occur to him that he was a father until she began to speak and he would tap his chest and tell her to say ‘daddy’.  The first time she repeated him, complete with gleeful smile, caused the years of black guarded layers to shed around his heart.

 

At eighteen months, Layla wanted to be near him and he brought her into the throne room while he held court.  He laughed as she sat on his lap and mimicked his actions, making the never-ending meetings much more bearable.  Despite his dedication to Agrabah’s prosperity, he still ruled with a good degree of menacing fortitude.  He needed fear as well as respect to preside well.  His teeth gleamed white for two reasons.  Threatening intimidation and smiles for his daughter.

 

Not long after, he was again summoned to Jasmine’s room.  He was astonished by the dread he felt as he should be glad she was upholding her end of the bargain with no insistence from him whatsoever.  The pervasive thoughts chasing him were equally as discomforting despite the innocuous nature of them.  He knew he should be kinder to her.

Jasmine was a strong and honorable woman to have married him knowing full well the misery that would accompany their marriage.  She despised his touch and after copulation, she was not given the luxury to bathe immediately after their exchange.  She bore to him a child that they should have both disregarded for various purposes but he was well aware that she doted incessantly on Layla, as did he.  His thoughts turned to his daughter whom he freely admitted to himself he loved more than anything in the world.  The thought of forcing her to marry someone who would use her as a walking womb and then contemptuously ignore her until forced to integrate through awkward intercourse disgusted him.  It was one more thing to hate the previous Sultan for.

He walked to Jasmine’s room deep in thought.  He did not care for her but he was aware she was a good mother to his daughter and regardless of that, she did not deserve this life.

Jasmine was waiting for him though she did not make eye contact as he slipped into her chambers.  Without a word she hiked up her skirt and bent over the couch and waited for him to take possession of her.

Jafar’s stomach sank as he watched her make herself incredibly vulnerable to the very person she hated the most.  If this was Layla’s fate then he despised himself more than Jasmine ever could.  He opened his mouth to speak but there were no words that could possibly attain forgiveness from her.  There were no actions he could make that would change her mind about him.  Anything he said or did would be construed as an attempt to manipulate her in some way.  In the end he hesitatingly did his duty, quickly trying to put this miserable moment in the past.  He hoped any consolation could be seen through the gentleness to which he took her though he dared not embrace or kiss her as she would just see that as more violation on his part.

As he thrust into her he thought of her as the mother of his beautiful child.  They would make another and the thought pleased him enough.

When he was done he tenderly pulled her panties up her legs and lowered her skirt then went away hoping not to be summoned again.  It was not to be.  He was given a note a month later, dread again filling his chest.

 

The Sultaness was more congenial as he entered her chambers.  Not much more but she at least acknowledged his presence this time around.

“Is there a reason you do not use your sorcery to ensure both conception and birth of a son?”  She asked of him.

“I have looked into the matter.  The sorcery is…troubling.”  He responded.  She gave him a puzzled glare, wondering if she should ask.  Her curiosity was too overwhelming.

“How so?”

“Aside from the questionable materials necessary to achieve such a spell, it’s possible to cause pain if done incorrectly.”

“For the child?”

“For the mother.”  He answered flatly.  She stared despondently at him before nodding her head.

“I see.”

“We can resort to such practices if you feel the necessity.”

“No.”  She said quietly.  “Perhaps in time.”

There was nothing else to be said.  She gracelessly lumbered to the couch and was near to leaning over when he cleared his throat.

“Are…”  He sighed, not knowing how his words would be taken.  “Are you comfortable in this position?”

“What would it matter to you?”  She said somewhat harshly and he berated himself for trying.

“Perhaps it doesn’t but I do not enjoy it.”  He answered, taking a more selfish approach as that was what she could understand.  “I would prefer the bed.”

She huffed lightly and went to the bed.  He followed and when she got on all fours and hiked up her skirt he took her from behind.  Before he had only her hips to grasp onto but this time he clenched his fists into the sheets and lay his chest fully on her back, keeping himself aloft as well as he could so that she did not have his weight on top of her.

The mother of his child.  Soon another and he looked forward to the day he could this time be there for the baby on the day of his birth.

In his aggravated state of both unfulfilled climax and heightened disgust for himself, he uttered two words in a hoarse whisper against her ear. _I’m sorry._

He hadn’t meant to voice it and he desperately hoped she hadn’t heard him.  He left her face down on the bed as he hurried out of the room.

 

For Jafar, two times was the charm.  Jasmine did not summon him again the next month and he could only assume that another child was on the way.  It was confirmed when he asked the nursemaid while he visited with Layla, bouncing her on his knee.  His heart swelled in pride and joy at the news.  He looked at his beloved daughter and wondered how he could share his love with another.

He should not have worried.  One look at his second daughter and his heart doubled in size.  She was tiny, purple and pruney but that in no way discouraged the love he immediately felt for this bundle.  It did not matter that he did not sire a son.  He would try again and welcomed this newest gift in the meantime.

 

Farah was different from Layla.  Where Layla was smart and serious, Farah was playful and mischievous.  Where Layla loved to sit on her father’s lap and listen to him read books, Farah preferred the images he conjured in smoke filled air of mythical animals and faraway lands.

On Farah’s one-year-birthday, Jafar, like always, had breakfast with his daughters and was surprised by the sudden appearance of his wife.

“Would you enjoy some company?”  She asked of them.  Both girls squealed in delight, crying out ‘mommy’.  It startled Jafar as he realized he had never seen his own daughters interact with their mother, much less refer to her as such.

“This is your palace and you are welcomed everywhere.”  He responded unsmilingly.  She sat down and ate in mostly silence though he noted her own astonishment at the same revelation he had earlier when both girls referred to him as ‘daddy’.

 

Jafar soon found the reason for Jasmine’s joining them at breakfast.  When the girls were taken by their nursemaid Jafar rose from his seat and was met with the Sultaness falling in step with him.

“I’d like a word with you.”  She simply stated.

“Speak for I have much to do.”  He answered mostly out of habit.  She expected harshness out of him and that was what she would get.

“Education in the land of Agrabah is abysmal.  I expect you to raise it to more acceptable limits.”  She demanded.  He stopped short and exhaled in infuriating control.  He was offended.  He took great pains to heighten literacy in a land where, for a long time, only the rich could afford education.  Not only was it incredibly difficult but he had other much more pressing matters to attend to.  He stared down at her, the differences in their heights never more conscious till now, and wondered how someone from the loins of a despicably absent leader could be so headstrong and morally guided.

“I did not know you had such concerns for the citizens.”  He said more in a question.

“You don’t know me and therefore cannot understand my concerns.”  She replied.  It was true.  He knew the feel of her thighs and the heat of her hate but he did not know anything else about her.  He stroked his beard thoughtfully with a half-frown.

“Tomorrow morning I will consult the minister of education.  I expect you to attend the meeting.”  He remarked.  Her brows shot up but there was no reply as he had already taken back down the hall with a waving flourish of his black cloak.

 

Jafar had expected drama and he was hard pressed to disguise his wicked smile when they came.  The Minister of Education and the Sultaness butted heads about the progress of literacy and they debated one another in tight scowls until a full blown argument broke out between them.  The Minister of Education, who was already driven to anger by the presence of a woman in the court, spat of her inexperience and lack of real world understanding but Jafar had listened to the arguments and was won over.  What the minster said wasn’t wrong but the Sultaness had other ideas and attributes that guaranteed more results.  Jafar didn’t much care for right and wrong so much as who could make what happen.  He was surprised to learn his own wife was an excellent candidate for his initiatives.

“I’m appointing you Minister of Education.”  He told her over a rare dinner together.  She had been told to attend and he had not expected her to actually do so.

“What about your current Minister of Education?”  She asked after she got over her initial astonishment.

“Would you rather he continue his assignment?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then pay no heed to his future.  You must focus on your new duties.”  He responded.  She bowed low in confused thought, looking into her plate for answers to unasked questions.  They sat in silence for a few moments until Jafar bravely made a kind gesture.

“You…”  He started, pausing to build up more courage.  “You’re a good mother.”  The appointment to minister was a selfish maneuver to get the best possible people on his cabinet.  His current gesture was an attempt to reciprocate some sense of vulnerability for all the times she had done so in the past.  She glared skeptically at him, hard enough that he had to turn away once or twice.

“Thank you.”  She simply said.

 

Now that she was a member of his cabinet, Jafar saw Jasmine more often in the last month than in the four years they had been married.  He had never treated her like a wife though and he certainly didn’t start now.

“What do you propose to do about the shortage of available teachers in the city?”  He asked her in front of his cabinet.

“We’ll need more money to attract foreign educators and to set up good schools.”  She answered.

“We don’t have the funds.”  He replied.

“Than we don’t have a means of getting teachers.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”  He threatened.  He saw the clench of her jaw and the furrow of anger in her brow but he noted another expression dredged from the turmoil of her mind.  Respect.  He treated her exactly like everyone else.  She was not a spoiled princess whose hand needed to be held nor to be repeatedly shot down for his amusement.  She accepted the challenge.

“I’m sure I will.”  She promised.

 

With her noble upbringing, the Sultaness was versed in charity.  She knew a thing or two about being asked to donate large amounts of money and so it stood to reason she knew how to guilt others into supplying it as well.  Gathering the richest citizens of the country, Jasmine held an extravagant feast and raised more than twice the amount she needed.  Jafar had been obligated to attend but he would have done so even without her demand of him.  Throughout the night he watched her flit from one face to another, speaking in loud tones and fake laughter, bleeding the guests of their riches.  She paid him no mind the entire time and he found that observing her stimulated in him an arousal he would have never thought possible.

“Your wife is lovely.”  A woman whom he had never met, decked out in expensive jewelry, dared to say with unnecessary enthusiasm.

“Indeed, she is.”  He agreed.

 

Jafar entered his daughters’ joint rooms to wish them a good night and was startled when Jasmine was still there.

“I apologize.”  He bowed low.  “I’ll come back later.”

“No need.”  She replied.  “Layla and Farah wish to see you now.”  Behind the door he could see the two girls already running to him for kisses.

He could feel the Sultaness’ eyes upon him as he read the girls a story, hugged them good night and tucked them into bed.  He exited their darkened room and was about to return to his own when a voice called his name and stopped him in his tracks.  He turned to Jasmine with a questioning look.

She hesitantly approached him, her mind clearly working over what it was she was to say to him until she found the necessary words.

“It is time to produce a male heir.”

He stood in masked bewilderment at her admission.  Layla was eighteen months before Jasmine would allow another attempt.  Farah was only a month after her first birthday.  The timing was different and she had caught him by surprise.

“If you believe so.”  He said after a moment.  He wondered if he should bring up the idea of using sorcery to direct the conception.

“Come to my room tomorrow night.  I will be waiting for you.”  She remarked before turning on her heel.

 

Jafar did not feel dread though he was not eager to enter Jasmine’s chambers.  He wanted to do things differently and wondered how he could persuade her without stimulating suspicion from her.  He wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking through his words after entering her room and finding the Sultaness draped in a sheer negligee at the foot of the bed.

“I hope you don’t mind,”  She began.  “But I thought you might finish faster if you had more to look at.”

He swallowed hard and finally nodded his consent.  She was now twenty-four years old, a mother of two and more ravishing than he had ever realized.

He did not need to imagine past women he had been intimate with.  He did not need to remind himself that she had given him two wonderful daughters and applied herself for another.  He need only look at the breasts under her sheer fabric and he was ready to perform his duty.

She did not take it off while they were intimate and that only served to excite him more.  The positioning was the same, her on all fours while he took her from behind on the bed, but this time there was a semblance of enjoyment as he sway into her body, wondering if the small thrusts into him were just his imagination.  He heard a soft, clenched sigh escape her and he quickly came.

He did not immediately escape this time.  She lay on the bed with labored breathing while he checked to make sure he was properly back into his pants.

“I think we both know it takes two efforts.”  She told him, too reluctant to make eye contact.  “Come back next week.”

 

During the next few days, Jasmine was busy with her affairs in the Ministry of Education as she tried to convince the Sultan, her husband, to direct more funding towards schools for girls.  She fought a hard battle and eventually won when she directed his attention towards his own dear children, knowing now that they were his only weakness.  He had assumed she would take that route and it came as no surprise when, in front of the cabinet, she pleaded for him to imagine his own spawn without the privilege of knowledge.  He sighed and granted her claim.  The reinforcements to the kingdom walls would have to wait till next quarter.

 

Jafar had a rare spark of excitement the day he was to bed his wife again.  She was still a mystery but the little he knew heightened his arousal enough for him to look forward to their copulation.

In the past it would take him as long as twenty to thirty minutes to complete the act.  Last time it had been done in as little as five minutes.  Tonight he hoped to take his time with it.  The Sultaness would not think too much of it as he usually took a while anyway.  He wanted to savor the union and focus on the feel of his cock inside her, which was something he had once felt only disdain for.

She wore the same negligee but she did not immediately get on the bed.

“Did you grant me preference or was I able to sway your mind the other day?”  She asked.  It was hard to concentrate on her words when his thoughts were entirely on her sex.

“Did it seem like I made concessions for you as my wife?”  He asked.

“If you did then you made every effort not to seem that way.”

“You are stubborn and you fight dirty.”  He answered admiringly.  “You are, indeed, quite persuasive.”

A rare smile peeked in at the corner of her lips.

“Come then.”  She bade him.  “Give to me an equally stubborn heir.”

Because of the hints of affability she displayed, he was feeling bolder tonight.

“Might I make a request.”  He asked as he gazed at her from the corner of his eyes.  “Would it be all right if you faced me?”

She considered his appeal.

“Your cloak would get in the way.”  She answered.  “But if you’re willing to remove it then I’m willing to entertain your request.”

There was a terse pause until, without a word, he began to casually undress.  He was down to just his black satin pants when he looked up at her and noted a bizarre expression on her face.

“You’re appalled.”  He simply stated with a hint of disappointment.

“No.”  She responded.  “I’ve just never seen you without your headdress.”  He glanced up expecting to see his hairline but of course he can’t.  He knows he has short, thick black hair that spikes every which way because he cuts it himself with a sharp knife every few months when it starts to hang into his eyes.  No one ever sees it and so he doesn’t take great care to have anyone style it carefully.

He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged.

“You are the first to lay eyes on it in years.”

“A pity.  It’s quite becoming.”

Her answer caused his face to lighten in surprise.

She leaned back on the bed in a beckoning manner and he came to her with careful steps.  He is hard and ready.  He placed himself over her and drew his pants just below his thighs so that he can bring out his cock and place it softly along her folds.  He was surprised to feel a slickness that had never emanated from her before.  He looked to her, wondering for a moment if she’s comfortable and he accidentally locked eyes with her.  Before he knew it he was reading into her mind as he slowly pushed inside her.  Her mouth gaped wider with each inch inserted until she arched back in a silent scream.  He had vowed to himself to savor his time in her but the image is too much and he found he was already rocking slow, tight movements into her.  It didn’t help that she was making hushed whimpers with each thrust.  He felt his impending orgasm threatening to release but he hung on till he heard her choked gasps and felt her core clench unexpectedly around his cock.  He was temporarily blinded by the blissful explosion that swept through his body and he groaned heavily as he released into her.

Less than five minutes for sure this time.  He groaned again in embarrassment.

Jasmine didn’t seem to mind.  She was breathless and beautiful.  He had no idea this was the first orgasm she had ever experienced.

“I never knew…”  She said in wonderment to no one.

“Never knew what?”  He asked.  She waved a hand dismissively.  She was not ready to tell him any secrets.

 

To his own shock, Jafar was disappointed when Jasmine personally tells him she is pregnant again.  He covered it with an acceptable answer and then brooded lightly for the rest of the day.  He was reminded to be excited for a possible son when he visited his daughters that afternoon.  He simply could not wait until bedtime to see them.

 

Throughout her pregnancy, Jasmine worked as the Minister of Education.  For the first time Jafar was witness to her growing belly and he learned that he finds her gorgeous this way.  He beamed every time his eyes lit upon his future child and he saw in her a glow that would seem out of place if she were not visibly with child.

 

It is around this time, the sixth month of her pregnancy, that Jafar decided he wants to dine with his daughters every night as well as breakfast with them every morning.  He invited Jasmine out of kindness and their routine was established the first night she sits with them.  She glanced at him with a subtle smile in thanks and he almost dropped his wineglass in his lap.

 

Jafar was outside the room where Jasmine gives birth, pacing furiously while she screamed in pain.  This was the closest he had ever been during the birth of one of his children and it upset him to hear her agony but he dared not leave because if there was ever any reason she should call for him, he wanted to make sure he was nearby.

At long last he heard the cry of a tiny baby and he was ushered inside the room to the view of his wife cradling a white and purple newborn already suckling at her teat.

“A daughter.”  She told him, and she seemed to tense, waiting for his reaction.  He blinked once at the child and she handed his baby to him.  Holding his newest daughter in his arms, Jafar openly wept while he nuzzled his nose in her soft face.

 

“What would you like to name her?”  Jasmine asked later while Jafar looked on with interest as the baby fed from her breast.  He was startled enough to take a step back.  He hadn’t named his other daughters and so he certainly hadn’t thought she would ask his opinion on the matter this time.

Seizing the opportunity, Jafar stared lovingly at his baby.

“Sufia.”  He replied.  Jasmine nodded acceptably.

“A wise choice.”

 

Jafar was much more responsive as a father than he had been with his first two daughters.  He hadn’t realized how much work was involved, and though there were nursemaids on hand, he insisted he learn how to calm Sufia and to learn the sounds of her cries.  At times his arms ached from carrying her and his legs hurt from pacing the floor as he rocked her to sleep but he did not step down from what he saw as his paternal duties.  He now knew what he had missed in Layla and Farah’s lives and he took it upon himself to rectify those mistakes.  Every moment he was not in court he was with his daughters, even during the times he just wanted a break from their incessant whining.  It was at these moments that he was really understanding what it was to be a father.

 

Agrabah, like Jafar’s family, was growing quickly.  The universities had attracted wise foreign professors who taught young, eager and smart students, who went on to enter into a workforce starved of intelligent thinkers.  Already the country was seeing scientific and technological progress and would undoubtedly continue to do so now that there was more influence coming in.

There was more food and less time committed to finding it or earning money to buy it.  People found they had more time to spare towards hobbies and interests and a blooming cultural aspect radiated through the nation.  Suddenly theaters and art galas were popping up all throughout the cities, bringing with it entertainment and new radical philosophical ideas.

The military was well funded and nourished and young men were actually flocking to find their place inside the establishment.  Well trained warriors kept bandits and foreign entities at bay and the threat of annihilation was less likely than ever before.  The roads and communities were safe for once and free trade became a main staple of Agrabah’s wealth.

 

Jasmine and other ministers were lauded for their hand in the government’s success but it was Jafar who bore the brunt of the credit.  It was rightfully so since it was his vision to write Agrabah onto the map as a mighty kingdom.  He had worked incredibly hard to achieve this day.  Much longer than anyone realized.  All those years of conspiring and exploiting, the many aggressive uses of sorcery, the few deaths that were necessary…it all culminated into this.  A grand nation ruled by a grand Sultan.  From the balcony of his palace he gazed upon the corners of his rule in immense satisfaction.  He could never ensure there would never be a broken boy like him growing up in an environment that normalized abuse and destitution, but he had crippled the probability a hundred fold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long finale of Jafar's reign and a happily ever after for all.

Jafar must still rule with an iron fist if he is to command and retain the respect of his leadership.  In the past few years he may have allowed three little girls to worm their way into his heart but he is still cruel and forceful with his subjects.

“You have disappointed me.”  He told the Minister of Economics in front of his court of forty peers.  “If you cannot abide by my wishes then I will find someone who can.”

The Minister visibly slinks back with head lowered in shame.

“Your majesty,”  a head guard addressed him.  “The fate of the prisoners of war must be decided.”

“Execute them all and send their heads to their country.”  Jafar ordered coolly.  “There will be no mercy for those who encroach upon my land and its citizens.”

“Sir,”  The Minister of Culture spoke his turn.  “There is a subset of people distributing offensive propaganda pamphlets declaring you an evil dictator.”

Jafar stroked his beard for a moment.

“What kind of people are they?”

“Mostly young performing artists.”

“Give them a theater to perform in.”

“I-…pardon?”  The Minister blinked confusedly.

“Beheading them only proves their point.”  Jafar explained.  “Let the public ridicule their hypocrisy.  Besides, there are much worse things to be called than an evil dictator.”  And he can’t help but brighten at the moniker.  It suits him.

“Your majesty,”  Said the Minister of Education.  She had her head held high and Jafar wants to bite her exposed neck.  “Literacy rates are continuing to rise except on the outskirts of the country.  We need more schools in the villages.”

“We don’t have the resources currently available for that.”  Jafar replies.  “Besides, who will farm the land if everyone wants to be a scholar?”

“With all due respect, your majesty, but there will always be farmers.  That should not deprive any boy with aspirations from achieving his goal.”

“I will not allocate funds to search for that one diamond in the rough unfortunate enough to have been born outside the cities.”

“Your majesty…”

“That’s enough, Minister.”  He halted Jasmine with a palm held flat and upright.  “For now the focus should be on the many, not on the few.  There are children in the city who need attention too.”

Jasmine pursed her lips but sat back down at the large table.

 

At dinner, Jasmine was silent.  Jafar held his five-month-old daughter in his arm while his five-year-old and his two-and-a-half-year-old eat ice cream for dessert.  Layla and Farah talked circles around each other and Jafar laughs with pride.  Their gained intellect surprised him every day.

He confronted her the moment they had put their eldest daughters to bed.

“I apologize for the rudeness on my part this afternoon at the meeting.”  He said as she sat in the lounge and put the baby to her breast.  He wasn’t sure if her modesty around him had dwindled since their third child or that he was beside her more often while she nursed.  “I hope you understand the position I am in.”

“It is of no use to apologize for wanting to make the right decisions.”  She merely sighed.  “I should be grateful that you would take my advisement under consideration.”

Jafar glanced at Sufia and then back at Jasmine.  This one was the exact likeness of her mother.  Already he was seeing stems of her personality branching out into flowering pedestals.

“Please do not underestimate your value.  You are wise beyond your years.”  He told her with a rigid bow.  He turned to leave but was was caught by her calling his name.

“If you will appease me,”  She said.  “I should like the presence of your company.”  He tried not to cock his head in surprise as the words did not sound easily spoken.  He sat down on the couch across from her, making more eye contact with his daughter than with his wife.  They sat in silence for a moment before the Sultaness spoke again.

“Tell me of your childhood.”  She simply asked.

“I’m not sure where to start.”  Jafar answered with an arch of a high brow.  “What is it you seek?”

“Where did you come from?”  Jasmine shrugged.  “How did you get here?”  She waved her hand indicating the palace and not the land.

“I was born in the impoverished town bordering the east side of the city.”  He replied.  “As you’re aware we were outside the city walls and generally targeted by bandits and thieves.  Everyday was a struggle to find food.”  To this day Jafar still could not seem to gain weight.  His body was not used to consuming large quantities of food and he never felt comfortable doing so.

“I see.”  Jasmine listened with narrowed eyes.  She didn’t seem skeptical but unable to relate.  She was born in a palace and surrounded by food.  She never went hungry a day in her life.  “Where did you learn your sorcery?”  She also had a habit of skipping the foreplay of meaningless conversation.

At the thought of his first dabble into magic, he cast his head towards the fire in the hearth and stared at the orange embers in deep recall.

“A woman.”  Was all he answered.

“Oh?”  Jasmine responded in surprise.  “Just a woman?”

“We were to be married on her eighteenth birthday.”  He replied.  “But she was burned as a witch before it happened.”  He was glad to get the shock from his words etched on her face.  Though he began to admire Jasmine the more he discovered her personally, she was still young and naive and knew nothing of the real world.

“Tell me about her.”  She nearly demanded.  Jafar entered his memories and told her stories that lasted hours into the night.

 

What was usually time spent ignoring each other was now spent in the lounge making conversation.  There were disagreements and common interests and shared thoughts and discussions of political aspects but there was never any animosity between them.  Jafar learned to read Jasmine just like he had learned to listen to Sufia’s cries.  He could tell when she was hungry or tired or bored just by the timbre of her wails.  He could tell if Jasmine was cross or amused or uncomfortable by the way she held her head.  He supposed she was learning his tells as she was smart enough to know her enemy if she still considered him one.

It was a month later at a large feast held by the neighboring kingdom of Atleeza that Jafar was able to put his new knowledge to use.  A lumbering man of gigantic size, both tall and wide, approached the table where Jafar and the other Sultan of the land sat with their wives.

“Ah,”  The man exclaimed, clearly drunk though alcohol was strictly forbidden.  “Jafar the non-noble Sultan.  A pleasure for sure.  I am Aziz Khabalah, Minister of Education of Atleeza.”  He protruded a fat hand but Jafar did not reach for it.

“Yes, I’m sure I’ve heard of your name but your achievements, or lack thereof, require I conserve the memory space for more important people.”  He responded icily.  Aziz pulled his hand back with a scowl.

“Perhaps you would not be so unkind if you were not held by the balls by your wife.”  He sneered.  Jafar looked to Jasmine in confusion.  She shrugged her shoulders illustrating she had nothing to do with whatever ideas Aziz had.

“You consult her even now.”  Aziz laughed.  “A woman who pretends to know better than a man.  Who plays dress up in your court.  And you are so cowardly that you allow it.”  He continued to taunt.  “She won’t even allow you to have more than one wife.”  The Sultan of Atleeza had thirty wives though they were only surrounded by his twelve favorite.  “No wonder you’re so uptight.  Which one of you has the pussy?”

Jafar noticed from the corner of his eye Jasmine’s mouth twitch and her brows furrow.  His wife grasp the fork in her hand with white knuckle force and he knew she was about to make a scene.  He laid his own long fingers upon her death grip and snapped his fingers at the guards.  With a flick of his head at Aziz, the guards flocked around him and carted him away without the rest of the guests being any wiser.

“Don’t mind him, my dear.”  Jafar tried to soothe.  “He’s drunk.”

“Drunkards tend to speak their innermost thoughts.”  Jasmine seethed.  “How dare he spew such disrespect towards you.”

He shot a glance at her, wondering if she was actually angry that he had been disrespected or if it was just something she thought he wanted to hear.  He was not at all upset by the words meant to offend him but the thought of striking him seemed appealing as soon as Aziz had dishonored Jasmine.

By the twist of her lip and the redness of her cheeks, she had not misspoken.  She was more angry for him than she was for herself.  He looked away in deep thought.

 

The Minister of Education of Atleeza became a thorn in Jasmine’s side when he made a remark to the Sultan that women were not rational thinkers and the best course of action was to always do the opposite of what they suggest.  Jasmine could hardly take the criticism but when education for women was outlawed in the land of Atleeza she couldn’t bear the thought of thousands of girls unable to stand up for themselves due to lack of literacy.

Jasmine came to Jafar’s room after a particularly trying day.

“I want to know more about your sorcery.”  She said tightly as she waited for Iago, Jafar’s only trustful and mute slave to leave his chambers.  Jafar stared at her suspiciously for a long moment.

“What is it you want to do?”  He asked calmly.

“Have you ever killed anyone?  Can you do it through your magic?”  She demanded.

“Yes.”  He replied.  “To both.”  It was a big admission but she had known of his sorcery for years and never told anyone.

“I want you to destroy Aziz Khabalah.”

Jafar sighed and rubbed his fingers along his forehead.

“My dear, Sultaness, if he is dead nothing will change.  The law has already been passed and there will only be another more odious man to take his place.  Besides, that is another kingdom away and not of our concern.”

Her response was to cross her arms angrily and tread out of his room with disdain.

 

It took Jafar a week to get the necessary materials.  It was not easy to come by a pure white lamb, water from the springs of the highest mountain and a lock of hair from the head of Aziz Khabalah.  What’s more is that for his plan to succeed he needed to cast more than one spell.  Three to be exact and each one was complex in their rituals.

Somehow Jasmine could sense that something was not right with Jafar on the night he planned to execute his scheme.

“You look pale.”  She said, studying his face just before they put their children to bed.

“I am fine.”  He answered though it did nothing to assuage her.  He didn’t think she would notice anything and if she did she would not care enough about him to voice it.  Perhaps she was merely taunting him.  He was glad she knew nothing about the pint of blood he had earlier drawn from himself sitting in a pot in his secret chamber.

He excused himself after putting his children to bed and wished her a good night because he would be unavailable to company her to the lounge that evening.  She seemed to want to say something but held her tongue.

Jafar snuck off to his secret chamber and began his enchantments.

First he had to kill the Minister of Education.  With a lock of Aziz’s hair, Jafar took to summoning a demon that would gorge his heart unnoticed.

The second enchantment needed the pint of his own blood which took a life of it’s own as he projected himself into it and sailed it towards the land of Atleeza.  There he became a cobra of blood, hovering in the air and finding it’s way into the Sultan’s court where it hissed unnaturally and terrorized everyone who was witness to it.

The last enchantment used all his strength as he doused the living lamb in magical spring water and turned it into a woman of intense beauty.  He transported the lamb to the court where the snake whispered threats of death and the woman killed the beast with nothing more than a bright light shined on it’s form.  The blood burst out and spattered all over the walls of the court, marking the event should anyone not believe their eyes.  The woman told the Sultan, who was drenched in Jafar’s blood, that the snake found a path to their realm through the inhumanity of young women and to rectify this situation the law must allow for education for all genders and any kind of rape was seen as a crime regardless of if it was between neighbor and neighbor, father and daughter, father and son, and even of husband and wife.  The woman spoke the words Jafar mouthed as he sat cross-legged in a trance upon his hard chamber floor.

 

News of the event reached Agrabah fast.  It took several days for a hard riding horseman to transverse between kingdoms.  Jafar had been at breakfast with his daughters and wife when a servant came forward with a note for him.  He glanced at it with an unreadable expression and then handed it to Jasmine.  He did not stop to study her features as she took in the news.  She was quiet for the rest of the breakfast.

 

“Why did you do it?”  She asked him later that evening while they sat in the lounge.

“Hmm?”  He feigned ignorance as he rocked six-month-old Sufia in her sleep.  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Stop mocking me and tell me why.”  She replied though she was not angry, just tired of people playing dumb.  “You implied it was more trouble than its worth.”

“I have known many strong women.”  He answered, kissing Sufia on her temple.  “It would be a pity if they were not given the chances afforded them.”

“They say Aziz Khabalah died of a heart attack.  It was apparently gruesome and took a while for him to die of agony.”  Jasmine surmised.  “It sounds a lot like the way the Grand Vizier you succeeded died.”

“Does it?”  Jafar thought.  Yes, perhaps he did use that same spell to kill the aging and rotten Grand Vizier.  It had been over a decade ago and he had simply forgotten.

“How did you do it?”

“Please do not ask questions to answers that will not provide satisfaction.”  He said gravely.  He was not heartless but he also had no qualms killing a man and it would not later disturb his sleep.  Such practices often labeled people as monsters and he was finally in Jasmine’s good graces.  He did not want her to view his children as spawn of a monster.

For a while Jasmine stewed on his admission.  She finally got up from her chair and went to exit the room.  Before she did though, she turned to him from the doorway.

“Thank you, Jafar.”  She said sincerely.  He watched her leave with brows shot up to his hairline.  In his arms his daughter slept.  Jasmine had apparently not felt unnerved enough to take her from him.

 

In the morning, Jafar is uncharacteristically late for breakfast.

“He is attending with the Grand Vizier in the throne room.”  The servant informs Jasmine.  Undoubtedly it is important or he would not leave his daughters waiting.

The little girls sit and eat fruit while they talk with each other.  Layla is dressed in her finest dress again.  She loves the refinement of being a princess.  Farah is dressed like a boy because she prefers to climb trees and tumble in mud.

“You look silly.”  Layla tells her sister.

“You silly.”  Farah shoots back in her short vocabulary.

“I look like a princess should.  You look like a prince.”

“Daddy say I wear pants.”  Farah crosses her arms angrily.

“Just because daddy says you’re allowed to wear whatever you like doesn’t mean you should.”  Layla admonishes.

“What’s this you’re saying?”  Jasmine inquires.  She had thought it was the nursemaids who were allowing stubborn Farah to go through a phase therefore bypassing a tantrum.

“The nursemaid wouldn’t let Farah wear the clothes she wanted.”  Layla explains.  “Daddy said she could wear anything she was comfortable in.”

“Why would he do that?”  Jasmine wonders aloud.

“He said it was because girls should be able to do anything boys can do.”

“Did he?”  Jasmine is astonished.

“He said I could marry any prince I wanted to.”  Layla beams.

“Marry girl.”  Farah laughs.

“I’m not marrying a girl!”  Layla shouts at Farah.

“What does she mean?”  Jasmine points to her second daughter.

“Daddy said I could marry a girl if I wanted.  Or a commoner.  He wouldn’t make me marry someone I didn’t like.”

“Hmm…I’m surprised he would say something like that.”  Jasmine thinks back on their own marriage.

“He thinks its mean.”

“What’s mean?”

“To make someone marry a person they don’t want to.”  Layla responds.  “He saw it happen lots of times.  He doesn’t like it.”

“Did he say why?”

“Because it hurts everyone.”  Layla practically whispers like it’s a secret.  “That’s why he said I can marry anyone I choose!”  She suddenly retains her earlier glee.  Jasmine is stunned into thought.  He certainly hadn’t thought this way before the marriage though he is a good, loving father to their three daughters and he did make her the Minister of Education, which is practically unheard of in the land.  She never considered him a closed minded person but she was impressed by how open he had become in the last few years and how he seemed to grow more benevolent the more power he attained.  A stirring in her belly reminded her of the man he once was when he was Grand Vizier and she can’t remember why she hated him.

“I apologize for my tardiness.”  His deep baritone penetrates her thoughts.  He kisses his children and sits down at the head of the table.

“Daddy, am I pretty?”  Layla asks immediately.

“My sweet one, you know that I consider you one of the fairest of the land.”  He laughs.  “But remember, beauty does not command the respect that a keen mind does.  It would serve you well to learn your studies.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Me pretty?”  Farah asks him.

“You, my little kitten, are very beautiful and very cunning.”  He responds with a smile.  “And you will find other ways to be beautiful as you grow older.”

Jasmine cannot help herself.

“Am I pretty?”  She asks him.  He glances up at her in surprise.

“The entirety of Agrabah, my dear Sultaness, knows of your immense beauty.”  He answers with a quiet and sincere grace.  “But it is not just your physical body that captures the wealth of your attraction.”

She takes in his words quietly.  He stares at her confusedly until she gets up from her chair and tells her children to mind themselves during the day.  As she passes Jafar she stops and looks him square in the eye.

She leaves with one word.

“Tonight.”  She tells him.  With wide eyes he can only nod as words will no longer form in his mouth.

 

Jasmine sits at dinner and studies Jafar as he eats his cheese.  He’s like a bird, pecking at his food.  She’s aware he grew up never knowing skin should not be pulled so tautly against ribcages but he makes no attempt to pad his body even now when he has access to so much food.  He had once told her it is a habit he could never rid himself of and she believes him.

He is quiet tonight and she knows he’s thinking of her.  It was the way he casually glanced at her then turned away when eye contact was made.  He is surprisingly shy in these moments though she’s not sure why.  He is anything but shy, even in the past when he took her the first few times out of necessity.  She knows he didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like to think of it.  She knows it would hurt him if she told him how she cried after he took her virginity.  She doesn’t want to reflect on it either so she doesn’t.

She thinks of the last time they were joined and she remembers the wash of her orgasm flood through every nerve in her body.  It was sublime and she had never felt anything like it before or since.  She wonders if she is remembering correctly.

He finally makes eye contact with her again and she deliberately places a piece of strawberry in her mouth and licks her lips.  His eyes go wide and he can’t rip his gaze from her.  She places a finger to her mouth and then runs her tongue lightly up the joint, making sure he is watching.  Layla comes to him.

“Daddy, can I sit on your lap?”

“Not right now, my dear.”  He replies in a throaty growl.

 

She is aware he is watching as they put their daughters to bed.  It is the same routine every night but this time Jafar is anxious to be done with it.  Jasmine bends over to place a kiss on Layla’s head.

“Daddy.  More stories?”  Farah asks.

“Not tonight, little kitten.”  Jafar answers.  “I will read to you many books tomorrow but it is time for bed now.”

He is next to Farah’s bed and Jasmine comes over and stands in front of him so that they are facing the same way.  She bends over again, this time to kiss Farah.  Behind her she hears his breath hitch in his throat, feels the feint gloss of his long fingers lightly flitter against her hip.  Jasmine turns out the light and Jafar follows her out the door.

His eyes are trained on her and his stare ignites a fire within her.  She flicks her finger at him and he continues to obey and follow.

As they walk silently to her room she thinks of how her excitement would be such a foreign concept to the Jasmine six years ago.  It is the singular worst moment of her life, the night he first penetrated her.  She had felt him tear her inside and she cried silent tears into the couch thinking only of the life she must bear to bring her kingdom back under her control.  Now she is older and a bit wiser and she looks back on all the mistakes her father made and how Jafar was the answer to everything.  He hadn’t destroyed the kingdom like she thought he would.  He hadn’t reigned with revenge in his heart and unconcern for the welfare of the subjects.  If anything, it was her father who had been so careless.  She couldn’t really remember him ever doing much but playing with his childish toys.

She did recall one thing about her father that made her cringe when she was thirteen and discovered he held a harem in his wing of the palace and exploited both women and men for his own sexual purposes.  That had been a surprise but he had kept it hidden enough that she was able to maintain her relationship with him without any animosity.  She had assumed Jafar would participate once he became Sutan but the very next day of his crowning he dismantled the room and gave the occupants a choice: Freedom and humble servitude in the palace or freedom and a small stipend to go home.  Half chose the former, half chose the latter.

Even after he impregnated her, for years Jasmine had thought Jafar was not interested in sex at all.  He certainly didn’t seem to take pleasure in it and she had a good network of servants serving as spies for her around the palace.  He did not take any mistresses nor did he have any romantic affiliations with anyone of either male or female gender.  He had one trusted servant named Iago who was a strange mute man but Iago never stayed in Jafar’s room long enough to assume there was something going on between them and besides, Iago was in a long term affair with one of the maids of the palace.  He slept with her often and Jasmine wasn’t even sure Jafar was aware of it or even cared.

The only thing about Jafar that was reportedly odd was that he would go into the main hall in the west wing and suddenly disappear.  He could be gone for a few minutes or even a full night.  Jasmine assumed he had a secret chamber where he hid his tomes of sorcery.  It was hardly surprising news to her especially since his rooms were in that particular area of the palace.

Jasmine had only been with one man.  She had a sexual encounter six times in her life.  She had been married for six years at this point.  Now knowing that Jafar was a man who enjoyed sex, he was quite possibly the most patient man in the kingdom to have only had the occasion twice every other year and never forced himself upon her.

Despite having three children, she was sexually inexperienced and knew only through other Sultan’s wives what was normal during sex.  Thirty minutes of thrusting was not normal unless the man was either showing off or not all that aroused.  Jafar was definitely not showing off.  Less than five minutes usually meant a young buck unable to control himself or a man incredibly excited by a new woman.  She thought it might be the latter though he had gone without for years at a time and perhaps the build up had weakened his resolve.  Either way, she thought it was a good sign that he had somehow went from half an hour to barely two minutes.

 

She was getting some good signs now as she glances at his pants and notices an angled bulge at his crotch.  He sees her eyes flick down his waist and he blinks back surprise.

Inside her chambers, Jasmine hopes Jafar will claim her as soon as they pass the threshold but he apparently doesn’t want to risk upsetting her in some way and plays it safe, always going by her initiative.

“Would you like me to face you again?”  She asks with a slight tease.  He nods his head before willing himself to speak.

“Please.”

It comes out hoarse and he clears his throat.

“Then you’ll need to remove your cloak.”  She tells him.  He waits for her to begin disrobing and she smirks and draws off her silk clothes until there isn’t a stitch on her body.  She has had three children but she is young and her body still retains it’s miraculous form.  She sees his eyes slowly work their way down to her toes and back up again, lingering on the areas he has never seen before.

He starts on the buttons of his cloak and she doesn’t hide the fact she is anticipating his exposure.  He is thin and reedy but has surprising muscle formed along his bony arms and chest.  He leaves his pants on and she comes to him with a playful admonishment.

“I forbid your headdress stay on during your stay.”  She says as she takes off his hat.  His hair is free, a wild mess of thick, black spikes but it’s clean and endearing in a way.  She runs her hand through his hair and is surprised by its softness, much like his beard.

“And now the pants.”  She orders.  He is amused by her and hooks his thumbs into the band and draws them down his skinny legs.  His cock springs out immediately and she gasps in astonishment. _Do they usually come that large?_

“Huh…”  She stares.  “I wouldn’t have guessed that would ever fit, yet we know it does.”

“You are designed to fit a baby through.”  He replies.  “I am not the size of a newborn.”  He points to his penis.

“No, and thank Allah for that.”  She gets onto the bed face up and beckons him forward.  He comes to her and crawls in between her thighs.  His face is an expression of want and disquiet.  He does not want to hurt her anymore.  There is a pregnant pause while their eyes are locked and he hovers over her trying to read her face.  Somehow they are already heaving for breath.

“Enter me.”  She orders him and he does in a slow, methodical drive.  She can feel every inch of his pulsing cock leisurely inserted with an aching pleasure.  She cannot choke back the moan clawing out of her throat.  He feels thick and hot and there is already a wonderful glowing sensation building in the pit of her stomach, extending it’s eager tendrils through her body with a vicious heat.  Her fingers find their way into the skin of his shoulders and grips non too gently.  With one solid thrust into her, Jafar accidentally bursts the glow inside her and she gasps out another long moan while her orgasm forcefully swims through her.  It is even more wonderful as she remembers her first one to be.

He can feel it.  His face contorts while he fights back his own orgasm.  She clenches around him and he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to come but then she thrusts into him and he groans inwardly and purses his lips while his seed spurts into her.  Short, quick thrusts into her milks every drop until everything is entirely exchanged.

Less than a minute.  He hides his face in her neck but she can feel the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks.

He has never stayed long enough for her to feel his penis go flaccid and it is an odd feeling but somehow soothing.  He finally climbs off of her and this is the only point where he seems off.

As he dresses she stares thoughtfully at the ceiling from her position on the bed.

“Maybe next week is too far away to meet again.”  She says.  “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

He shakes his head.

“Not at all.”  He seems to want to say something else but has talked himself out of whatever it was he was going to add.

“Tomorrow night then.”  She confirms.

 

Jafar returned to his own chamber in a fit of shame.  One minute.  Even when he was a young lad of sixteen, experiencing the opposite sex for the first time, he did better than that.  One minute.

He was used to being in control.  He could go years without the need for sex.  With a brush of his mind he could wave away any ideas that would turn any other man in to a sex starved imbecile but he was better than that…except when it came to Jasmine.

He wanted so much more than a twice every few years situation.  He wanted to stay and take her for a second time or even a third but he did not ask because he wasn’t sure what she would think of such a suggestion.  A son was part of the deal, not the sex, and though she was so much more willing now than in the past six years, he did not want to say or do something that would suddenly revert them back to the beginning stages when it felt like rape and he had despised himself for committing to this plan.

His mind went to the shape of her body and his penis stirred excitedly.  He practiced his control.  He needed as much practice as he could get for tomorrow night.  With intense strain he willed his erection to dissipate.

 

The next night broke every restraint they ever had.

“Might I make a bold request.”  Jafar asked as he undressed in front of her.  “May I kiss you tonight?”

“You may.”  She answered with smiling eyes.  As soon as she was naked and upon the bed he crawled between her legs and drew her to him, snatching her mouth with his in a long awaited kiss.  She eagerly returned the gesture, clearly unpracticed but hungry in spirit.

While she was learning how to draw light moans from him with suckles of his bottom lip, he surprised her by leaning into her and inserting the tip of his penis.  She gasped into his mouth at the strong reaction her body elicited from just the simplicity of it.

“More.”  She begged and he groaned and leaned further into her.  When he was good and full inside her she arched into him, rolling her hips, discerning what position best accentuated their union.

He started with slow, gentle thrusts but her stifled cries hummed a beat that intensified his speed.  He wasn’t going to last much longer but by her wailing moans, neither was she.

They came together, vocalizing their pleasure with intense groans of satisfaction.  He lay against her breast with labored breathing and she struggled to retain her own as she ran fingers through his hair.

He lasted longer than the previous night but not much more.

“Will tomorrow morning be too early to try again?”  She asked as he lay flaccid inside her.

“Ten minutes would actually suffice.”  He replied.  She shot him a surprised look.

“You can do that?”

He laughed a deep, guttural sound.  Her naivete was adorable.

“Yes, my dear.  In fact, the second time generally tends to last longer.  If you believe it would be necessary, we can continue as long as you like.”

She paused in her astonishment and then finally nodded.

“Yes.”  She said in finality.  “I believe it would be necessary.”

“Perhaps in the meantime you would allow me to keep you…warm?”  Jafar asked as he raised himself up and drew himself out.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“It might be easier to show you.”

“By all means.  Do so.”

“Let me know if you are ever uncomfortable and I will stop.”  He cautioned before taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips.  He kissed her palm and then her knuckles before kissing up her arm and smiling at the goosebumps raised there.  She laid back and closed her eyes as he caressed her shoulders with his lips and into her neck then brushed his mouth along her clavicle.  With fingers wound in his hair, Jafar continued to explore her body, finding what made her squirm the most, enjoying the soft murmuring whispers of his name when he kissed down her torso and nipped at her thighs.

It took less than ten minutes for him to rise to the occasion.  He informed her and she nodded her readiness and he plunged into her, this time not as gently.  He was more voracious this time, more encompassing, but so was she as she wrapped arms and legs around him and hung on with every thrust made into her.  Gasps of bliss and moans of ecstasy filled the air of her chamber for minutes on end.  Jafar could feel her soft core squeeze hard around his cock and he grunted in strained control until he released inside her.

She spasm under him as she was taken by her own climax and before she had caught her breath she put a hand to her head to still her spinning wonderment.

“I never knew…”  She said.  Jafar chuckled, leaving a deep reverberation to echo through her body.

 

“Perhaps it would be best if we continued to meet to ensure conception.”  She said noncommittally while she lay languidly on the bed.

“Perhaps it would be.”  He responds as he puts on his cloak.

“I’d like for you to come back tomorrow night.”  It’s hardly a question.

“It would be my pleasure, my dear, Sultaness.”  He smiles.

“And if it pleases you, I’d like for you to call me by my name.  We are married, after all.”

“If you wish.  Jasmine.”  He answers.

 

 

All day he could think of nothing but her.  At breakfast she was surprisingly happy and talkative and he found her even more attractive that way.  She had the deign to flirt with him in front of the children.

“Daddy,”  Layla asked.  “Can we stay up late tonight?”

“No, Layla,”  Jasmine answered for him.  “Daddy has something he needs to attend to tonight.”  She smiled and leaned over so more breast was exposed to his roving eyes.  He swallowed hard.

 

“Your majesty,”  Jasmine stood next to him holding a parchment.  They were in the court surrounded by other advisers though none of them were listening in on their conversation.  “I’d like for you to sign this order.”

She had requested something similar to him many times in the last few years but this time her tone was completely different, full of silk and cream.  He signed it without reading it.

“Your majesty is much too kind.”  Jasmine said as she rolled it back up.  “And perhaps a little reckless not to have glanced over it before allowing it’s decree.”  She winked.

“Should I be more wary of your dealings in the future?”  He questioned with a smirk.

“I should think we will have many dealings in the future.”  She replied.  “It is up to you how wary you think would be necessary.”  She turned haughtily and he stared after her with fire in his eyes.

 

They hardly cross into Jasmine’s room when Jafar brings her to him and captures her mouth in desire.  He growls his consent as she pulls off his robes and knocks his headdress off and pulls him to the bed.

He has something different in mind tonight and she allows him to kiss her body until his face buries into her pussy and she is flaring in heat and writhing in bliss.  Long fingers probe into her as a strong tongue tastes circles around some region that responds unnaturally to him.  Within moments she feels the same orgasmic implosion sweep through her nerves and she is astonished that it does not take a cock to stimulate it.

He takes her and she loves every stroke of his penis inside her body.  He is stronger tonight and more controlled and she can’t believe the ecstasy he overwhelms her with comes from the husband she despised for years.  How much she has missed out on.

She asks him to stay the night and he gladly does so.  It is the beginning of their shared chambers though they will eventually move to one closer to his secret rooms in the other wing of the palace.

 

It has been months but Jasmine never mentions anything about pregnancy until Jafar notices her belly is beginning to protrude and he reasons she has known for some time.

“You are with child.”  He states as he rubs light circles around the budding baby.  “You did not want to tell me?”

“I did not want this to stop.”  She responds.

“My lovely wife,”  Jafar coos.  “Don’t be ashamed to desire marital engagement.  I have as much want of it as you do.”

 

He does not hide his anger in the court and he rules with both threats and rewards, but with his wife he is considerate and gentle.  There is never a harshness to his tone even when they disagree.  Jasmine wants Layla to attend the royal feasts as a princess but Jafar feels she is too young to be paraded out like a doll on display.  They come to a compromise and Layla is given the choice.  She wears her fanciest dress to the grand feast but is easily bored and Jafar sees to it she is sent back to the palace safely.  He does not shoot an arrogant glance at Jasmine nor does he allow an ‘I told you so’ to escape his lips.  When it comes to their daughters, they are a team and despite being wrong about Layla, Jasmine is glad for the outcome because together they have learned what is best for their eldest.

 

Jasmine likes watching Jafar shave.  He’s very meticulous about it, paying special attention to the line of beard allowed to grace his face.  After he is done he comes to bed and she lays against him, kissing the smoothest parts of his cheeks now that they are void of abrasive whiskers.

 

Jasmine is too heavy with child to comfortably have sex.  Jafar takes the initiative to pleasure her with his tongue often.

“You don’t have to do that if you do not wish.”  She tells him later.

“If you don’t care for it then I will stop but it is as much for me as it is for you.”  He responds.  It puzzles her.  She can tell by the strength of his erection that he does, indeed, enjoy it but she’s not sure how.

She decides she wants to understand so she goes to his private office the next day and tells the guards to leave.

“My dear wife,”  He says, perplexed by her behavior.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, I need you to teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to please you.”  

It is clear by the expression on his face that he is even more confused.  She comes to the side of his chair where he sits.

“I’ve heard that sexual climax can be achieved without the aid of a woman’s loins.”

He seems to understand now as his eyes go wide.

“Er…yes.  That is true.”  He finally responds.  She kneels down and begins unbuttoning the part of his cloak covering his groin.  He sits rigidly with his hands grasping the arms of his chair rather sternly.

“I would very much like to attempt it but you must tell me what gives you the most pleasure.”  She says, drawing out his very ready cock.  He whimpers as she runs her tongue along his length.

 

For his fourth child, Jafar was in the birthing room when his son is born.  Jasmine looked upon the little boy in complete shock and happiness.

_Mubarak.  Blessed one._

The Sultan informed the kingdom and there was rejoicing for days on end.  In the beginning Jafar was too happy to be annoyed by the thought that his daughters did not receive the same welcome.  Once the novelty wore away he contemplated with deep displeasure.  He knew why it was this way but he also thought how unfair it was to value a boy over a girl.

His wife noticed.

“Tell me your thoughts so that I can tell you to dismiss them.”  She said in the lounge while her son fed at her breast.  She often told him he thought too much and worried over things that took too much of his time away.

“I was thinking about our first night we had relations.”  He answered.  She was stunned into silence.  “I remember bathing directly after because I couldn’t stand to touch you.  I had to wash off the guilt immediately.”  He sighs heavily.  “How selfish I was…”

She stared at him while he gathered his thoughts into cohesive sentences.

“I felt sorry for myself and never once did I stop to think how you might feel about everything.  Forced into marriage, coerced into sex with a man you despise, impregnated with children of a monster…I may have risen out of the drudges of poverty but I would not have if I were cursed with the wrong anatomy.  While I may not have always had food, I have had freedom.  You, who were born into wealth and never gone hungry in your life couldn’t even leave the palace without permission.  The choice between food and freedom is difficult but I believe I would have chosen the latter every time because a life without choice is not a life at all.”

He paused and looked to the floor in shame before turning his eyes reproachfully to hers.

“I’m sorry, my Sultaness.  It was wrong of me to force your hand for my own gain for power.”

She sighed long and hard.

“It’s no secret I hated you for years.”  She said.  “In fact I readily admit I’ve given you a fair amount of forgiveness in the last year considering all the misery you’ve caused in my life however I believe you have managed to make my anger dissipate due to the virtue you have shown.  The kingdom is better off with you as Sultan.  Which is a statement, at one point, I never thought I’d say.”  She shrugged.

“Would you rather the kingdom fell with me as ruler just to spite me?”

“At first I did.”  She admitted.  “But I was only twenty and completely ignorant.  It helps to have someone to compare you with as leader and you have shown you are wise and masterful.  It also helped that you somehow became the champion for both women and the poor.  How could I find fault in that?”

“You can credit yourself and our daughters for that.  Had you not ingrained yourselves into my heart and revealed to me your intelligence and talents, I would still be placing male citizens at an unfair advantage.”

“Perhaps we have swayed your mind about women but you would still have helped the poor.”

“Don’t underestimate my wickedness.”  He chuckled.  “I simply wanted to cutout the criminal element from the cities, which the poor tend to instigate.”

“Ah, so your benevolence was simply happenstance.”

“My dear jasmine,”  He laughed.  “I am a man in want of power and riches.  It is difficult to hold on to them if I am cast out for being incompetent.”

“My, what a caring protector you are.”  She smiles.  “Regardless, you are forgiven.  Now come keep me warm my wonderful, wicked husband.”

He sat beside her and kissed her while their son slept.

 

“Should you ever look at a young boy with lust, you will feel the pain of a thousand needles in your groin.  Never act on your abomination.”  Jafar hissed as he kept his staff raised to the eyes of one of the head clerks.

“...Abomination.”  The clerk repeated with glazed eyes.  Jasmine was witness this time.  She had never seen his hypnosis used in front of her and she was uncomfortable by the fact it does not make her uncomfortable.  When the clerk left, Jasmine confronted him.

“Why did you not have him chained and locked away?”  She asked as she followed him up the highest minaret of the palace.

“There’s no evidence he’s ever harmed anyone.”  Jafar said as his long legs carry him up the steep steps one at a time.  “He’s an excellent clerk and it would be a pity to dismiss him because he has a maladaptive behavioral condition.”

“A behavior that is dangerous to young boys.”

“Not anymore.  Hopefully he’ll be conditioned out of it.”

“I’m not sure that’s how that works.”

“Time will tell.”

“Have you ever hypnotized me?”  Jasmine questioned.  She was slightly out of breath by this point.  The tower was quite tall.

“Absolutely not.”  He answered sincerely.  He has climbed this tower many times and doesn’t struggle against the gravity.  “You are much too headstrong to fall under it’s spell.”

“So you’ve tried.”

“No, actually.  There’s never been any reason and even if there was I would be hesitant to try.”

There was a long pause before she spoke again.

“Did you hypnotize my father?”

“Many times.”  He replied a little too casually.

“Did you tell him to marry me to you?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to her with a clear case of guilt.  He was on the steps above her and was even more towering than usual.

“I did.”  He admits.  He was surprised to see she was not angry.

“I guess that makes me feel better.  I would have been more upset if he had simply allowed it.”  Jasmine answered.

Jafar swallowed hard and glanced quickly away, resuming his climb up the minaret.  Jasmine knew that look though.

“What are you not telling me?  You just said you hypnotized him.”  She calls to him as they go through the door at the top and out into open sky.  It was dusk and the orange hues from the fading sun cast a brilliant glow along the incoming night.

“I’m afraid your father is easily swayed.”  He tells her apologetically.  “As you recall the wedding took place three months after you were informed.  One can be jarred out of the spell in a matter of days and while your father was a weak willed man he most certainly was not under hypnosis at the time of the wedding.”

“So you’re saying he could have come to his senses and called it off?”  She said less as a question.  Jafar’s silence was answer enough.  Jasmine sighed and shook her head.  “I loved my father but he was never a wise man.”

“That we can agree on.”

“Well, you didn’t really have to.”

“You know my thoughts on your father.  The only thing he did in his life well was to raise an exceptional woman like yourself.”

Jasmine gave him an impassive look before allowing a tick of a smile to upturn the corner of her lips.

“Go on.”  She prodded him.  “Do your magic.”

With the discussion behind them, Jafar looked up to the sky and raised his cobra staff.  This was the second time Jasmine would watch the Sultan cast a large spell over the city of Agrabah.  Every month he came up to the tower and reinforced his magical protective spell.  As he waved his staff and chanted his foreign words she could see the strength of the power flow through him and surge out into the night in a wide, radial arc.  He had apparently been doing this for over a decade, keeping her safe long before she loved him.  Watching him now, she wondered if her love was more powerful than his sorcery.

“Is there a spell to make someone fall in love?”  Jasmine asked as they made their way back down the steps.

“Love, as well as many emotions, are much too irrational to formulate a spell around, though people have tried for centuries.”  He responded.  “If you’re asking if I used my sorcery to make you fall in love with me, rest assured, I had nothing to do with it.”

“You’ve had everything to do with it.”  She replied.  “You just didn’t use your sorcery.”

“Before this moment I did not actually know if you loved me.”  He smiled.  “I will take this as an admission.”

“So you may.”  She laughed.  “Are you in love with me?”  He stopped and turned to her so that they are on uneven steps and near the same height.

“Desperately.”  He told her as he drew her into a kiss.

 

Agrabah is the greatest country in the known land.  In ten years Jafar has managed to raise it from the degradation caused by the succession of inept Sultans.  It is rich and happy and many look upon it with seething envy.

There is a grand feast for the ten years Jasmine and Jafar have been married.  All manner of elite are attending including all the other leaders of the recognized kingdoms.  The representative of Hambe presents his gift.

“The Sultan of Hambe would deeply appreciate it if you accept his gift of his daughter, Princess Fatwa.”  He bows.  Jafar clenches his jaw as he sits upon his lofty throne.  Jasmine sits beside him with a suspicious glare.  This is the first time she has ever known anyone to give him a wife and she finds it odd that it is happening now after many years he has been sultan.  She doesn’t want to share him but she’s not sure if he will accept the gift.

“We have discussed this.”  Jafar replies in his commanding tone.  “I do not accept wives as gifts.”  

Jasmine tries not to look astonished.  He has never mentioned being presented with a wife before.

“It has been concluded that you are both virile and strong with seed.”  The representative answers, waving a hand at Jasmine as evidence.  She is very visibly pregnant with their fifth child.  “His majesty, the Sultan of Hambe would be honored if you made a union between our two prospering kingdoms.”

“As I have heard it, Hambe is threatening war with Atleeza.  If I were a cynical man I would think this was a means to draw in our sword in the battle.”  Jafar reasons.  “Nevertheless, I have never and will not now accept the gift of a wife.  I already have one and she is all I need to be happy.”

The representative goes away unhappy.

“You never told me about being offered other wives.”  Jasmine whispers harshly to him while they are presented with the next present from another kingdom.

“I didn’t want to make others go through the same misery I put you through.”  He whispers back.  He certainly didn’t want to consummate the marriages either as it was already awkward enough with Jasmine at the time.

“But now you’re just letting the brides go back disgraced to their ungrateful families.”

“That was why I didn’t let you know later, after you had learned to love me.  I didn’t want you to tell me to start accepting them.”  Jafar answers as he suddenly stood up and clapped heartily for the gift of five tiger cubs he accepted from the kingdom of Atleeza.

 

The kingdom rejoices when a second son is born to the Sultan and his wife.

_Akeem._

The family is seven strong now.  Jafar looks upon his wife, three daughters and two sons and he can’t help but wonder how it all happened.  All his life he had fought for power and when he got it he was surprised that he would trade it all if it meant choosing between it and his family.

 

The kingdom of Hambe declares war on Agrabah the very day they attack.  Jafar had anticipated it weeks ago and has assembled an army along the border.  He thought it was impossible for Hambe to win against the mighty Agrabah forces but then he finds they break through the barrier and are headed for the cities.  Jafar, the sorcerer, becomes suspicious.

The Sultan tells his wife his plans but Jasmine doesn’t like it.

“You might die and then there will be no one to rule Agrabah.”  She pleads.

“It will be good in your hands until Layla is of age to rule.”

“Layla?”  Jasmine questions in shock.

“Yes, Layla.  She is the first born and quite frankly shows the most promise of being a good leader for the country.  If I die, I want her to sit upon the throne.”

“But the law…!”

“I am the law.  Am I not the most powerful man in Agrabah?”  Jafar decrees.  By the next day he has the law changed and begins to prepare for his fight.  He hasn’t fought against another sorcerer in ages and he practices for three straight days until the Hambe army comes to the walls of Agrabah.

With every weapon available, the Hambe army gives everything it’s got at the city but the projectiles of the many catapults and archers’ flamed arrows collide into the invisible magical wall, unable to penetrate it’s spell.

A woman wearing a red cloak comes to stand alone in front of the walls.

“Reveal to me your sorcerer and we shall see who is the better!”  She bellows.  “If he does not show himself I shall kill every man, woman and child in the village to the north!”

Jafar materializes onto the battlefield with every citizen of Agrabah looking on.  There is an audible gasp as they realize who has been protecting the city all along.

“So you are the one who prostitutes her power to Hambe.”  Jafar says to her.  The woman narrows her eyes at him.

“The Sultan Jafar.”  She states in half wonderment.  “It would stand to reason a red-blood could only find his way to become sultan through magic.”  She snaps her fingers and two others materialize at her side.  They are two men, both holding staffs of sorcery.  Jafar now realizes he must fight against three sorcerers if he is to save his land.  Bracing himself with his cobra staff, he beckons them forward.

The fight is long and Jafar is the more experienced but also the oldest.  He must face younger opponents all at once without support of his own.  Combined the three make a skillful set, giving him everything they can while he blocks and counters with unending strength.  With wave after wave of exhibitionist might, Jafar is all but depleted by the time he makes his final stand.  In a wide sweeping gesture and a twirl of his brandished staff, Jafar summons a force so powerful that it swells through him like a tsunami of white light, surging up to the sky and raining down upon the Hambe forces in a meteor shower of fire.  Everything of the Hambe army is razed to the ground and everything dies.  Jafar has won but he is exhausted.  He slumps painfully to the ground amid the sea of corpses and the gates open and the citizens carry him in.

 

When Jafar wakes he is in his bedroom in his wife’s arms, his family surrounding him lovingly.

 

“Do genies exist?”  Jasmine asks him one night as they lean over the balcony of their palace looking up at all the stars in the desert night sky.

“They say one is hidden in the depths of the sands.”  He waves his hand out over the dunes.  “However it has been lost for centuries and the stories are all but myths by now.  Why?  Would you like me to find a genie for you?”

“No, of course not.  What would I wish for?”

“Well, you could wish for what any reasonable person would wish for.”

“You’re a reasonable person.  What would you wish for?”

“Well, a genie can only grant three wishes.  I would wish to be the richest and most powerful man in the world, to be the greatest sorcerer, and for happiness for everybody in the land of Agrabah.”

“Ah, so you would wish for wealth, power and happiness.”

“Of course.”

“Well, I already have all those things.”  Jasmine replies.  “And so do you.”  She comes and kisses him on the cheek.  “Why would I need a genie when you have made all my wishes come true?”

He stops and ponders.  It dawns on him she is right.  He is already rich in every way.

“My dear wife,”  He smiles.  “If I am your genie, what wish can I grant you tonight?”

“You.”  She pulls him towards the bedroom.  “I wish only for you tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who read this far. As always kudos and comments are appreciated.


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